Hat
by aspirer
Summary: Spoilers for AWE. My take on the scene after the credits. Please enjoy!


Disclaimer: I do not own it, nor am I am looting any money from this. Contains major spoilers for AWE. Read at own risk.

Will Turner rolled up his sleeves carefully, reaching out with a tentative hand to stroke the steel blade before him. He'd never been this close to a new blade, and it was so shiny he could see the faint dusting of freckles over his nose in his reflection. It felt hot and forbidden gleaming in the firelight that illuminated the smithy. The first sword he'd ever made. He sensed his mother behind him and smiled as she wrapped her arms around him.

'Your father will be so proud of you,' she whispered ecstatically. Will loved it when she talked about his father. He had turned nine not too long ago and was yet to meet the man, but his mother's promise was consistent.

'Three months after your ninth birthday, your father is coming home,' was her constant mantra. Will would often ask her what he was like and her reply would always be the same 'As handsome as you, my love, and regretting every day that he had to leave us.' Will had an old hat of his fathers that was never far from his own curly head of hair. His mother had kept the smithy open, using her own inheritance to hire workers.

'Why?' Will had asked one night. 'Is my father the boss?'

'He will be, when he returns to us.' She kissed his head and continued telling him his bedtime story. Her voice rose and fell with the words as they cavorted around the ceiling of the room, spelling out fantastical adventures of his parents and their roguish company. Characters like Jack Sparrow, the man who had to always be called Captain, and Barbossa, Sparrow's enemy who had to work with him to bring down Davy Jones, a fearsome, tentacled creature who was in love with a sea goddess. It was the stuff of nightmares, but Will would always crave more, closing his eyes until he could feel the spray, smell the salt and hear the waves.

And now he had finally completed his first sword. He laid the creation reverently on some clean cloth and wrapped it, accepting a pat on the head from Murtogg, one of the men who worked at the smithy, and occasionally featured in his mother's stories. He carried it up the hill to his mother's house, unable to believe he'd finally done it.

And just in time. For as they walked, his mother laid her hand on Will's shoulder.

'Go inside and leave your sword on my bed. We're going for a walk.'

'Where?'

'Up to the cliffs…now hurry, mister, or we'll miss the sunset!' she reached out and tickled him lightly until he squirmed away and ducked into the house.

Elizabeth looked out to the water, unexpected butterflies in her stomach. After so long it was hard to believe what was happening. She could still conjure his face perfectly in her mind, but his scent, the rough texture of his hands; it had begun to elude her.

Will burst out of the house and galloped over to her, his hat perched precariously on his golden head. He slipped his hand into his mother's and they began to race toward the cliffs. Will started to hum, an old, familiar song, and soon he was articulating lyrics, rolling forth in his small, melodious voice. The grass was getting longer here, and a breeze began to pick up as the sun sank. His mother was behind him, watching him leap ahead and smiling to herself, a secret smile she wore when thinking of his father. He slowed to a stop near the edge, still singing softly to himself and felt his mother beside him. Wordlessly, she pointed to the horizon. Will's eyes widened suddenly, as a peculiar green light spread across the water and promptly disappeared. There was something there, a wrinkle in the smooth line between the sky and the sea, and it was coming closer, very quickly.

He heard a tiny gasp from his mother and he understood with perfect clarity for the first time in his young life. Somehow, without fanfare, the occasion had rolled around.

His father was finally home.

He felt a lump rise in his throat and he didn't know why – his hands fisted and he felt slightly breathless. His voice faltered and trailed off as the shape became clearer: a magnificent ship speeding toward them. His mother clasped his hand suddenly and began to guide him away, leading him steadily down the rocky path to the sand below. They stood in silence, his mother tracing tiny circles on his hand with her thumb as the ship came closer still. He could make out a body darting across the deck. The man moved so spritely and quickly and as Will watched, the body dove smoothly into the water.

Will started forward unconsciously, his hand leaving his mother's as he went, concern flooding his mind.

'Will,' his mother spoke for the first time since they had left the house 'It's ok.'

She followed him to the water's edge, a smile spreading wider across her features as she came. Will was watching intently, scanning the water for another sign of his father. His legs felt weak and his hands shook slightly, but the voice inside him heeded his mother's words.

His mother gave a weak cry beside him and Will's eyes snapped across the tiny cove. The man had surfaced, a silhouette splashing through the waves as fast as he could go. And suddenly his mother was flying too, her dress soaking to the waist as she rushed toward the shadow that was his father.

Will watched as he reached out to her with the air of a starving man, parched of human contact. His hands brushed her face and hair and hands as though he couldn't believe she was real. He lifted her with ease, his arms completely enveloping her so that their silhouettes had merged and Will could hear her tears from where he stood. Slowly, carefully, the shadows parted and his mother turned to look back. She whispered something to Will's father and Will watched as the man's head turned quickly in his direction as though he'd been stung. He set his mother down and, still staring at the boy on the beach, continued through the shallows. Will's mother was stroking his arm, seemingly soothing him as they came closer, and before Will knew it, he was standing less than four feet from his father.

He was tall, tall and brown, staring at Will with a kind of quiet incredulity. The hair that hung in soaked tendrils was Will's hair, the large brown eyes also Will's. He took a step closer and realised that his father was trembling. His mother whispered something to the tall stranger and slowly, the man sank to his knees, his eyes never leaving his son's face. Will took another step closer….then another…then another, until he could see the tears darkening the man's eyes. Will raised one trembling hand and touched his father's face, his fingers coasting down the rough, tanned jaw that mirrored his own smooth skin so eerily. His father's eyes shut slowly, his huge hand grasping his son's hesitantly, as though afraid Will might break. The briny, salty, clean smell of his father's hair made Will dizzy and he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around the taller man's neck. He heard him sigh, deeply and gently, standing up suddenly as he held his son in his arms. And the tears that had threatened to come coursed silently down Will's face as he realised he'd never been held like this before, not even by his mother - an embrace so full of love that it made his heart ache.

Will pulled back and sat comfortably in his father's arms, touching his wet hair and even laughing softly as he pulled off his hat and sat it firmly on his father's head. His father let out a bark of laughter, and wrapped one arm around his mother, the other still holding his son as they began the trek up the cliffs and back home.

AN: How beautifully cast was Will and Elizabeth's child? He looked PERFECT. Liked my fic? Loathed it? You know what to do. Thanks for reading.


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